September 11, 2001

I was nine Nine and a half and still a little kid and my fourth-grade teacher started crying on the second week of school in front of the class and all she would say was there was a problem in Manhattan but her daughter was okay. School ended early and we children clustered in the schoolyard, gleaning what information we could and trading big words we heard from the grown-ups but had never before needed to know. The grown-ups weren’t talking to us, just reaching toward each other like scared little kids and asking “Are all of yours okay?” and saying “Yes, thanks be to God, and yours?” telling us “Just shush, shush, stay right here by me.” The older kids looked shaken and spoke in pretentious tones undercut by wavers and tremors and adolescent cracks in their voices, saying something about a bomb.

My dad thought he was watching a movie on TV...but it took him a while to realize that it wasn't; it was real. I can't imagine how it was like for you, since you were close to all of it. Good job with this. It's powerful.

This is an extraordinary poem. A deep and profound meaning is interlaced with expertise between these childlike words. It was such a sad happening, and you captured the sadness in a unique way. I applaud you for that.